Compass Points
by Zephyrfox
Summary: After the events on the beach in Cuba, Erik can't sleep. He does something about that. AU, Pairing: Charles Xavier/Erik Lensherr, Professor X/Magneto
1. Chapter 1

Erik Lensherr lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The safe house Azazel had teleported them to that afternoon was quiet. He assumed Azazel and the others, Raven, Angel, and Riptide, were asleep or otherwise occupied.

The events of the day kept replaying, over and over, in his mind. The triumph of finally destroying Schmidt — Sebastian Shaw — transformed each time into guilt that Charles had been injured, and realizing that it was his fault. _He_ had been responsible for hurting Charles, not Moira.

Charles' cry of pain and shock after being struck by the ricocheting bullet kept ringing in his ears. He rolled to his side and punched his pillow. Just trying to fluff it up, make it more comfortable. Not at all trying to take his frustration out on an innocent object.

He could still feel Charles lying in his arms, seeing the pain Charles' face and saying goodbye, so he could turn tail and run away. That's what it had been, for all his strong words of fighting a war against humans.

He rolled to his back, staring at the ceiling again. He huffed in frustration. This wasn't working. He knew what he had to do.

"Azazel, wake up!" he kicked the door to the other mutant's room. He heard a muffled grunt from inside. "I want to talk to you."

The door cracked open. He could only see a sliver of Azazel's red face peering out. "What?"

"I need your help."

Erik shook off the feeling of disorientation that Azazel's teleportation left him with and scanned the deserted hospital hallway. Then he turned to Azazel. "I'll call you when I want to return."

Azazel nodded and vanished, leaving behind a smell of brimstone and trails of black smoke dissipating in his wake.

Before they left the safe house, he had phoned the hospital, posing as a doctor. An intimidated intern had checked the records and confirmed that Charles was there, and which room he was in.

Charles was was behind this door.

He faced the closed door, gathering his courage. He reached for the doorknob, then let his hand fall back to his side. He took a deep breath and stared at the door a bit more. Any minute now he'd open it and step through. Any minute.

A _squeak, squeak_ of rubber soles against linoleum sounded down the hallway.

He looked up, staring at the corner where the hallway turned. He felt for the shape of approaching metal. Maybe a stethoscope? Probably a night nurse, doing her rounds.

Galvanized into action, not wanting to get caught, he followed through on his plan. He opened the door and stepped forward.

He held his breath, not wanting to wake Charles. The muffled sound of someone trying not to cry came from the bed, telling him Charles was already awake. Guilt punched him in the gut. "Charles?"

"Go away." Charles' voice was dull and choked.

"I won't do that. I can't do that." He stepped closer, into the pool of light that surrounded the bed.

Charles lay there, one arm flung over his eyes. His other arm lay alongside the bedrail, his hand gripping the rail so tightly his knuckles were white.

"You did before, Erik. Do it again. You're good at that," Charles accused, without lowering his arm. His voice was thick and rough with unshed tears.

"Charles, please." He touched the hand that clutched the bedrail, hearing the plea in his voice. Knowing that Charles would as well. "Look at me. Listen to me."

Charles shuddered at the touch and eased his grip on the rail. After a moment he lowered his arm. His eyes were red and damp as he looked up. He quickly looked away, but hesitated, and looked back. "What do you want, Erik."

It wasn't a question. It was exhaustion coupled with complete disinterest.

He swallowed, wanting to do anything to comfort Charles, but not knowing how. He shook his head and said simply, "I felt your pain."

Charles turned his head away. "I'm on pain medication, and I may not have my normal control, but I'm not broadcasting anything, Erik."

"That doesn't matter. Charles, look at me." He waited until Charles turned back to look at him. "You're always here," He pointed to his head, then to his heart, "and here."

There was a terrible kind of hope in Charles' eyes before it was shuttered behind an indifferent mask. "You've made your feelings perfectly clear. You left. You abandoned me. You took Raven with you." Charles' voice was full of resentment and accusation.

"I care about Raven," he saw the hurt flare in Charles' eyes and hurried on, "I care about her the same way you do. As a sister."

There was disbelief held tight behind the mask.

"I mean that." He stared into pain-filled eyes. Charles had to believe him.

After a few moments of silence, he turned away to look around the hospital room, seeing only a cold, sterile, lonely room. Charles would be much better off with him. "I'm taking you out of here, to a safe place."

There was a soft, mirthless laugh behind him. He spun back to the bed as he heard Charles' voice, starting off soft, then getting louder, each word sounding angrier and more bitter than the last.

"I have a broken spine, Erik. Do you have _any_ idea what that means? My vertebrae are broken. My spinal cord was severed. I'm _paralyzed._ It's more than not being able to move my legs. I have a —" Charles broke off, took a deep breath, "a catheter. I have a _colostomy bag._ I can't." Tears leaked out of Charles' eyes to roll down his cheek. "I _can't function on my own._ I need help to do _everything."_

His eyes widened. He hadn't realized the bullet had done that much damage. He clutched at the bedrail, his knuckles turning as white as Charles' had been. "But you'll heal. Right? It will get better." He was begging, desperate for Charles' reassurance, and he knew exactly how selfish that made him.

Charles just stared at him with eyes full of anger and pain. Before Charles could speak, he was moving, leaning over with his hand on Charles' cheek. Charles' eyes widened as he leaned closer and pressed a gentle kiss to unresisting lips.

He searched Charles' face for acceptance when he drew back. He saw stunned disbelief instead.

"Erik? What are you doing?"

"You're a dreamer, Charles. I'm a fighter. We both want the same thing, for mutants to be safe. We just have different ideas of how to accomplish that. We're two halves of a whole, you and I." He grasped Charles' hand, giving it a squeeze. "This will take both of us, working together, or both our causes will fail."

Charles stared at him. Reading his mind? "Charles?" Maybe that would make this easier. Blue eyes were locked onto his, looking lost.

"You kiss me, and then you talk about _working_ together." The blue eyes hardened. "Make up your mind."

"I have." He huffed a laugh. "I've never really had a choice. Not since the moment we met. You've always believed in me, even more than I believed in myself."

"What do you _want,_ Erik?"

This was it. He had to spell everything out, and plead his case. " _You,_ Charles. You already know that. Take a look, in here." He pointed to his head again. "You know I'm telling the truth. I don't care if you're paralyzed." He stopped. "Well, I do care, I want you to be well, but it doesn't _matter_ to me. I want us to be together. I want to argue over how to help other mutants. I want to play chess, and debate strategy, and wake up next to you every morning. Charles, I." He swallowed, suddenly terrified that his words weren't enough.

Charles slowly drew their clasped hands closer, eyes locked on his, and then brushed a feather light kiss against his knuckles.

He sagged in relief, suddenly aware that his face ached. He was grinning. He hadn't smiled like this in such a long time. And Charles was smiling back at him.

"Can I take you out of here, Charles?"

Charles nodded.


	2. Chapter 2

Raven hadn't realized on the beach that Charles had been so badly hurt. She hated herself for leaving him, but he had urged her to follow Erik. Azazel had teleported them to a safe house, where they could stay until they could figure out their next step.

When she woke the next morning, she discovered that Erik had gone to Charles in the middle of the night, and brought him to the safe house. She had been appalled at how much damage the bullet had done.

Erik wanted Charles to have around the clock attention while his spine healed. She thought that meant Erik would hire a nurse — she hadn't expected that he meant to take care of Charles himself.

The others left, seeing that Erik had no interest in leading them against the humans until Charles was well.

At first she had been jealous of Charles for taking all of Erik's attention. She had wanted Erik, or she thought she had. He was the one who had told her that she was beautiful, that her natural form was "perfection." After watching the devotion that Erik displayed as he cared for Charles in those first few weeks, she came to the stunned conclusion that Erik had never been interested in her.

She had been hurt and angry when she realized. She had lashed out at them, before running off in tears to hide in her room. The next morning she crept downstairs, embarrassed. Charles and Erik had ignored her behavior from the night before, and treated her as they always did, as a sister. She came to understand that all she wanted was to be treated normally, like an adult — and that's how they treated her.

After Charles's back was healed enough that he could be moved, the three of them relocated to the Xavier mansion, and gave it a new name. They posed as two brothers and their sister, taking Raven's old name of Darkholme. The people of Westchester didn't mention that the siblings looked nothing alike, or that the two brothers seemed closer than they should be. The fiction made their lives easier, and gave Erik legal authority to make medical decisions for Charles when he needed professional care. His paralysis made him prone to certain infections and injuries, despite Erik's vigilance and care.

Raven left her brothers and traveled the globe until she found a mutant healer that could help Charles. He remained paralyzed, unable to feel anything below his waist. Raven tried not to think what that must make for their sex life. They were her brothers.

The healer was able to help Charles' severed nerves regrow, giving him sensation again, and some control. He still needed the wheelchair, but maybe, in time, he might be able to walk again.

Raven still traveled, and sometimes she came across young, mutant children that needed a home. She would bring them back to Westchester and give them to her brothers. The Darkholme School for Gifted Children was established, and accepted local students as well as mutants. It gave the two men a basis for creating the new understanding they wanted to build between mutants and humans.

Somewhere along the way, she ran into Azazel again. They had an intense, three month relationship that ended abruptly when Azazel found out that she was pregnant. He ran, and, refusing to feel humiliated, she went home to her brothers.

It was an easy decision, she thought, exhausted after a long labor. The midwife carried the squalling newborn and deposited him in Charles' lap. She watched with a tired smile as Erik immediately bent over to coo at the baby.

She lay back against her pillows, watching her brothers as they exclaimed over how perfect baby Kurt was, from the blue of his skin to his little tail and his tiny fingers and toes. They sounded absolutely besotted by the new life in their arms.

Erik leaned closer to Charles and kissed him, the baby held oh-so-carefully between them. Raven felt happiness burst in her chest at the little family. They would make excellent fathers, and she would enjoy being just an aunt, spoiling her nephew.


End file.
